Control and Influence
by teawithsilk
Summary: *Series Two Spoilers* When love and friendship is lost, can trust be regained as Prince John's henchman wreaks havoc on Nottingham? Will Robin and his gang perish or flourish as the Sheriff learns how to control and influence his subjects?
1. New Beginnings and Old Friends

Okay, just some background info. Marlborough Castle was given as a prezzie from King Richard to Prince John in 1186. And this fic is set after Series Two. Marian is dead is sad and Will and Djaq are in the Holy Land.

Thx for reading! Please, please, review, I really love them.

Chapter One- Old "Friends" and New Beginnings- March 1193

"You wished to see me, my lord." Sir Warren of Marlborough entered Prince John's chamber. The young man wondered what his superior had in store for him. The last time John had called him away from his city, his task was one he never wished to do again.

"I have a task for you, Warren." The prince smiled and rose from his throne and then sat back down lazily. "How is the castle? I expect you are taking care of it nicely and hope you haven't let it fall in ruins by this time. "

"I haven't let it fall into ruins, it is well. Marlborough is awaiting your return from London." He nervously ran a hand through his light brown hair. "May I ask what you have requested my appearance for?"

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. I am sending you to Nottingham." John watched, amused, as Warren's face fell.

"Nottingham?" he stuttered. "I can't leave my sister in Marlborough, my lord." Warren took a deep breath and wondered what be worse, his sister's loneliness or Prince John's wrath? "With much appreciation for your consideration, I am afraid I have to refuse."

The older man laughed dryly. "This is not a job you can refuse. I am sending you to Nottingham. My words were not a question, they were an order."

"Um-how foolish of me, I am sorry. I misunderstood, when do you expect me to leave for Nottingham?"

"Since the outlaws are less likely to leave their fire during the cold, as soon as possible. Your possessions will be sent to Nottingham, hopefully arriving before you do." John smiled. "I gather from your infamous reputation that killing a few of Robin Hood's gang will be easy for you."

Warren's expression went cold. "Are you telling me that I must kill Robin Hood? Robin Hood? He will surely shoot me down before I even finger my weapon!"

"Are you showing signs of protest? Maybe this will go better than your experiences with my brother?" A hint of anger appeared in the prince's voice. "You are talking to the future king of England, Marlborough!"

"Forgive me, I am not thinking clearly today. My actions are wrong, you deserve more respect, my lord. I truly am regretful." The cat-and-mouse game of power and politics was none to be reckoned with. One wrong word and you could be ended. "It won't happen again."

"I am sure it won't. Next time, you'll be in my dungeons. You are a lucky man. I should throw you in there right now." John straightened in his chair. "Next time we meet, Hood will be dead or I will make you wish he was." He chuckled at the obvious fear in Warren's eyes. "Your precious sister will suffer for you."

Warren looked guiltily at the floor. "Because of my foolishness, she has suffered for me already."

"You don't grasp my meaning, Marlborough. She will suffer. I will torture and kill her. You truly are stupid to mention a weakness. Any weakness that is visible will be your downfall. A lover, a sibling, a parent? Anything could bring you down in this game."

"Thanks for the advice, my lord."

"I have not even started. Benedict Vaysey is ruefully cruel and heartless. His lieutenant, Sir Guy of Gisbourne, is a shadow of Vaysey, just as sadistic. Then again, Warren, I haven't selected you for your skill in running a castle. I selected you for your mercilessness and your deceitful past."

"My current self is much changed from when we last met." He chuckled, "Though the peasants may not think the same way."

"It is a shame you will have to snap back to old habits. Once I have made my decision, I have made it."

"I will have to go back to my old friends. Distrust, thievery, treachery, a lack of emotion."

"They are old friends of everyone who lusts for power, Warren."

"Yet, they are hidden and made to disappear when convenient. My dear sister hasn't given me a kind word since my last assignment of yours," he sighed. "Though I cannot blame her for anything accept falling in love with the wrong man." Warren smiled innocently. "I did what I had to do so that I would have a chance to succeed. If Robin of Locksley didn't get involved, my lord, you could be the king at this very moment."

"And that is precisely why you have to kill him. Those fools in Nottingham are not capable of such a task. They can't even run a functional shire."

"I feel intelligent in comparison." Warren laughed. "This might not be as hard as I thought after all. I have worked with Gisbourne in the past, he truly is incompetent."

"For your sake, I wish you well."

* * *

"Thank you, Robin Hood! You are a savior, Robin Hood! What would we do without you, Robin Hood?" All the peasants in Nettlestone ran out to greet their outlaws.

"It is my pleasure to help all of you! I am not happy unless everyone is happy." Robin handed a sack full of coins to a small child, "Buy yourself something to help you grow." He smiled and ruffled the child's hair.

"Master it is freezing out here!" Much shivered and looked out at all the tiny homes. "They have heat. Why don't we get heat? We stand out here in the cold instead of back in our nice warm camp." He noticed Robin wasn't listening. "Master!"

"Yes, Much."

"You weren't listening to me. I have to say-"

"Not now, Much." Robin walked away from his manservant and to the far end of the village. He was alone now. All of the villagers were in the village center, happily receiving daily necessities that they were deprived of. The other three outlaws were happily giving out money and food.

The outlaw walked by a familiar cottage and knew which way to turn. He knew this village better than his own. Marian's village. Robin knew every hiding place imaginable to escape from Edward, every way how to get into Knighton Hall, every way to sneak up on Marian when she least expected it. A sad smile appeared on his face as he reached his destination.

To a newcomer, it looked like an empty burnt patch of grass with the foundation of a home sprouting out of the soil. To Robin, this was where he went when he needed to be close to her. This was where he went when he felt like he couldn't keep fighting anymore. Even in death, Marian still had a tight hold on him. He still needed her, he still needed her reassurance.

Robin sat down and leant against the charred remain of the front wall. He could still remember everything like it was yesterday.

_"Robin! Don't sneak up on me like that! I told you, I don't like it." Marian was serious but Robin could see the laughter waiting to bubble up behind the straight face. "I mean it." She let out a giggle._

_He sat down on the bed, making his way from the window he had just climbed through. "Excuse me, my lady, but I am a bit tired after my climb." _

_"It is the middle of the night. You can't stay here." Marian quietly shut the door to her room and joined Robin on the bed. "I am a lady, Robin."_

_"And?" He leant over to kiss her, but got an unexpected slap across the face. Robin gave her his classic grin. "Marian, when we are married will you treat me like this?"_

_He could see her blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight. "What? Robin what are you saying?"_

_"I'm not saying anything. I'm asking you to marry me." Robin tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I have an answer?"_

_"Yes, Robin. My answer is yes!" Marian smiled and kissed him until she needed to come up for air. "I love you."_

_"I love you, too."_

_"Marian, is anything wrong? What's going on up there?"_

_"Nothing, father," she called. "Robin you have to leave." His betrothed push him off the bed and towards the window. _

_"Marian, Marian, Marian, I'm leaving." He slowly pulled himself over the window frame. The couple could hear Edward's footsteps approaching._

_"Go!" She ran over to the window and pushed him out. There was a thud and then a groan. "Dear God! Robin, are you alright?"_

_He chuckled and looked up at her, staring down at him. "I landed on me feet, I'm perfectly fine. You sound like Much."_

_Robin heard the door to her room creak open and Edward enter. Marian gave him a hoarse whisper, "Leave now!"_

"Aye, Robin! Come on now, it's cold out." Little John found him and interrupted his thoughts.

The outlaw leader rose from the ground reluctantly and headed back to camp with his gang.

* * *

Simon fidgeted and leaned against the door to Vaysey's chamber. The only bad thing about being Robin Hood's spy was having to stand for hours at a time. He yawned but then straightened himself and stood proudly. Gisbourne was striding towards them,

"Open the door, you oaf." The man in leather went past them and into the sheriff's room. "My lord, I have good news!"

The guard strained to hear. "And what is that, Gisbourne?"

"My men have killed one of Richard's messengers."

Simon could hear the sheriff clap his hands. "And what was his message?"

"Um…well, my lord…"

"Gisbourne, what was his message?" There was obvious irritation in Vaysey's voice. Simon was trying his best not to laugh.

"We did not think of that, my lord."

"Gisbourne! You don't just dispose of a messenger without getting his message first! Sometimes I wonder about you. How can one man have so much stupidity?" He heard a loud banging as the sheriff started throwing his possessions at his lieutenant.

"I am very sorry, my lord."

"You should be!" Simon cringed as Guy exited through their door and caught the other guard laughing at his conversation with Vaysey.

"Usher?" Gisbourne stood menacingly above the small man. "Do you find me amusing?"

"No, Sir Guy. I-I I saw a bird, you see. It flew right into the castle and then into a wall. It was the funniest thing I have seen in a long time." Albert Usher trembled under Gisbourne's angry glare.

"You can laugh about it on the gallows then," Guy smirked. "Guards!"

Simon stood openmouthed at Gisbourne's cruelty. Guy noticed, "Remember this, never mock me."

* * *

"Is it to your liking, Lady Margaret?" Alice smiled into the mirror after seeing the expression on her mistress's face.

"It is, thank you." Margaret returned the grin. "I hope I can look this lovely when my brother returns."

"You look lovely always." Little John's former wife would always be grateful for how Margaret had given her family a place to stay when they first arrived in Marlborough.

"You really are full of compliments today, Alice." The lady stood and went through the dresses piled on her bed. "Maybe you will even say that this dress is pretty." She looked disdainfully at the brown woolen dress her brother had purchased for her. "I swear, Warren doesn't think sometimes."

"The master maybe thought it would compliment your eyes?" Alice tilted her head to one side in thought. Lady Margaret's brown hair and eyes were almost the same color.

"No," she chuckled, "Warren is a man and has no idea of what women want."

"My husband is the same." The older woman brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt. "Luke gave me this ugly frock as a present."

Margaret's eyes sparkled. "We may have to treat ourselves then. How are Luke and John anyway?"

"They are well, my lady. John is enjoying his work under the friar. We hope that he will become a priest. How they grow up so quickly."

"I will have to visit him soon." She was fond of the child. "If he ever needs anything, just tell me. I am sure my brother will help." Margaret walked over to her window. She looked outside at the city. "The people seem happier since Warren has left and Prince John is in London. That is strange, is it not?"

Alice nodded, "It is strange." To her though, it really wasn't. Prince John was an example of Vaysey with more power and Sir Warren was just as bad as Gisbourne, only twice as sadistic.

She sighed and bit her lip. "Life hasn't been the same since our 'pilgrimage' to the Holy Land." Margaret turned so that Alice could not see her face. "Power will do anything to a man."

"I have seen my share of that," Alice frowned. What was Margaret talking about?

"You are from Nottingham?"

"Yes, my lady, Locksley."

"Then you must be familiar with Sir Guy of Gisbourne." She looked at her servant for approval. "He used to be a good man before he became involved with Benedict Vaysey." Margaret sighed again. "So did my brother before he met the prince."

Alice tried to think of the right words to say to her mistress at this time, but could not.

"I should not blame anyone for my brother." Margaret awkwardly looked down at her feet. "He made his choice."


	2. Unpleasant Meetings

SQUEE! Thx for the review TaserdbyJack! I'm glad you like! I've read a few of your fics too and they're awesome! I love all of them that I have read! Just a thought, are you on the RH forums, cuz that's where I read your fics? I'm teawithsilk on there by the way, a bit too shy for my own good. Oh, almost forgot, yes the guard really got hanged, but it was the other one not Simon. I probably could've written that better, sorry. And that's all I'm going to tell you for now! lol

Thx for reading and please, please, review!

P.S. I was going to make it longer but I was too busy. Sorry everyone

**Chapter Two- Decisions, Decisions**

Warren absentmindedly rode through Sherwood. His sister was going to absolutely hate him. First he had taken her away from Thomas, then he had dragged her back to Marlborough, and now he would have to bring her to Nottingham. Warren didn't know whether it was proper to let her stay at Marlborough Castle alone or whether it was safe to bring her to Nottingham. Margaret would hate either suggestion in the first place.

He kicked his horse to go faster as it began to rain, a cold icy rain. When he thought about it, her unhappiness wasn't really his fault. Gisbourne and Prince John were equally to blame, but then again it was him who had proposed the plan. Warren sighed, it _was_ his fault. Though, they didn't even really know if Thomas was dead. Gisbourne only stabbed him, and he had not died instantly. Warren thought he heard footsteps but dismissed it as nothing.

An arrow suddenly flew by his head and his horse reared on its back legs. Warren was thrown off of his horse, landing in the muddy road. "Jesu-"

"There's nothing to curse over, my good man." Robin appeared in his hood behind a few trees. Much and Allan were on the other side of the road, watching Warren carefully.

"Who are you?" Warren asked, irritated. He picked himself up off the road and brushed some of the mud from his trousers. "And what authority do you have to stop me?"

"I am Robin Hood. I am the resident outlaw of Sherwood Forest and I have all the authority I give myself," the outlaw laughed. "And the two men standing behind you are Allan and Much." Robin laughed even more as the subject of his ambush turned quickly to look at the other members of his gang. "No harm will come to you if you do as I say." He walked into the road and stood next to Warren. "Since I have ruined your clothes, I will only take a few coins."

"But Master, he is a noble!" Much put a hand in his hip. "He can afford new clothing."

"How would you know if I was a noble, you filth outlaw?" Marlborough sneered.

"My master is Robin of Locksley. I know nobles when I see them. And I am not filthy, I try to wash on a regular basis!" The manservant pouted. "Master, are you going to let him insult me like that?"

"Quiet, Much. It is raining, I want to get this over with." He looked up at the sky through the trees.

"_You_ are Robin of Locksley?" Warren glared at him. "Former leader of the King's Guard? _That_ Robin of Locksley?"

"I am." Robin became more serious. "Why does that concern you?"

"No reason in particular." Warren kept his eyes on Robin and then gave him a menacing grin. "How is Lady Marian these days?"

The outlaw leader charged at him. "Robin, no!" Little John came from virtually nowhere and held Robin back. "You!" He faced Warren. "Leave!"

Warren quickly mounted his horse and rode in the direction of Nottingham. He was starting to think that Nottingham might not be so safe for his sister.

* * *

"John," Alice called from the outside of the chapel, "you have a visitor."

The boy ran to greet his family, "Mother!" He collided with her, nearly knocking her over.

His mother hugged him tightly. "I've missed you." She headed towards the chapel with her son, "How is Friar Tuck?"

"He's well, mother." Little, Little John made a face. "He always smells of wine though."

They could hear Margaret chuckle from the carriage she was getting out of. "He does, does he?"

John darted through the grass to Margaret. "Tag!"

The noblewoman looked around to see if anyone was around, then picked up her skirts and chased after John. "Come back here!"

Alice felt as if she had two children. "John, Lady Margaret! I advise you to stop!"

Friar Tuck waddled out of the chapel, clearly having had a few alcoholic beverages beforehand. "Stop what?" He saw John chase after Margaret after she had tagged him. "Oh that. It's not that bad. Let me correct myself, _she's_ not that bad."

"Lady Margaret!" Alice said as loudly as she could. "I have someone to introduce you to!"

Tuck grinned at the prospect of the young woman. He watched as she ungracefully ran after his apprentice and tripped. "I'll help you to your feet, my lady!" The friar eagerly jogged to Margaret whose smile had turned to a look of disgust.

He put his hands on her waist and roughly hauled her to her feet. "How old are you, Lady Margaret?"

"I am nineteen." She smoothed the wrinkled out of her green dress, which now had a noticeable grass stain on the back leg.

"They keep getting younger, don't they?" The intoxicated friar put the grin back on his stout face.

"And the unwanted men keep getting older, now don't they friar?" She muttered inaudibly under her breath.

Alice walked swiftly to where her mistress and Tuck stood. "May I introduce to you Friar Tuck." Margaret shot her a glance. "And to you, Friar Tuck, may I introduce Lady Margaret of Marlborough."

"Of Marlborough? You're not related to that contemptible Sir Warren of Marlborough, are you?"

"He is my elder brother, friar." Margaret bit her lip. She that if Warren had been there Tuck wouldn't be breathing. "I deeply recommend you do not let Warren hear you speak that way."

"I'm not afraid of him." The middle-aged man straightened his shoulders. "I would fight Sir Warren in an instant." He leant down and planted a sloppy kiss on her hand. "What is with that ring?"

Margaret rested her eyes on the silver banded ring that she had to wear on her middle finger since it was too large for her ring finger. The stone was an amazingly deep shade of black ebony. "I just like it, friar."

"Don't try to fool me, my lady. Who is the lucky man you are betrothed to?"

"I am not betrothed to anyone." Margaret had not taken her eyes from the ring.

"A lover then? Are you a woman in waiting?"

"I am not, but then maybe I am in a way. It is not from a lover."

"Is the fair Lady Margaret a widow?"

"No. I will only tell you one thing: I know more," she paused, "more than my years are able."

John, who had only just realized that Margaret had ceased chasing him, was growing bored. "She doesn't like you, friar."

"Fetch us some wine, boy," he snapped.

"Um, I feel a tiny bit unwell." Margaret started to walk backwards towards her carriage. She detested the thought of having to spend any more time with Friar Tuck. "I think I'll just wait over this way." Her strides got longer as she neared her carriage.

Alice gazed at her with eyes that seemed to tell Margaret not to leave her with Friar Tuck. The lady was too far away to turn back and save her servant.

"Err, I have to leave as well, friar. Good day!" She followed after Margaret. "Goodbye, John!"

* * *

"Gisbourne!" Vaysey's voice echoed through the halls of Nottingham Castle. "Gisbourne!"

"I am here, my lord!" Guy appeared from a hallway. "Is something the matter?"

"We have a visitor!" The sheriff happily continued on his way down the hall, blissfully unaware of Guy rolling his eyes behind him. "He is waiting in the courtyard. His name is Sir Warren of Marlborough, a follower of Prince John."

"_Sir Warren of Marlborough?_" Guy asked. Was it the same man from the Holy Land? He suddenly felt sick as the memories overcame him. He had worked hard to forget his past sins but with one name they were taking over him. "I feel unwell, my lord. Please excuse me."

Sir Guy scuttled to his chamber at the castle. He closed the door behind him and let himself fall face down on the bed. Gisbourne buried his face in the pillow. One memory in particular kept coming back to him. Guy had to use all of his power not to think about it. It would lead to trying to kill the king, that would lead to him feeling horrible about himself, that would lead to his murders of innocent people on the streets of Nottingham. And all of it would lead to _her._ Gisbourne couldn't, wouldn't think of her. That was how he dealt with loss, with sorrow. He hid it away from the world, away from himself.

"_Warren, this is wrong. I can't do this, I can't go through with it."Guy took his hand off the sword._

"_You can, Gisbourne, and you will. If you don't we will be hanged. It's simple. Just stay behind that tent and when I give the signal come out and stab Lincolnshire." Warren took a small bottle out of his pocket._

"_What's that?"_

"_Sleeping poison." Guy glared at Warren. "Well, we can't have anyone hearing his screams, Guy." To Gisbourne, it looked as if Warren had just noticed his disapproval. "Thomas of Lincolnshire is the only man who knows about our attempts. If he tells the king, we are as good as dead. He has to die." He threw the bottle at Guy. _

"_Quiet now, hide behind that tent." Warren walked off. Gisbourne stood still as he saw a shadow come around the other side of the tent, he knew automatically it was Lincolnshire. Guy pulled his sword out of his sword belt and poured the liquid Warren had given him over it. _

_He peered around the corner at the scene. Marlborough had his bow pointed at Lincolnshire and a second man, who had probably just arrived, had a dagger to a young woman's throat. The man, Guy realized, was clearly using the woman against Lincolnshire. Warren put his bow down: the signal. _

_Gisbourne silently made his way into his position. He could see the woman, who was being held, tense as she saw him. He heard her gasp as he grabbed Lincolnshire and stabbed him in the side. The man almost instantaneously went limp. Guy didn't know what to think. Was he dead or was it the poison?_

_He heard Marlborough snap at the woman, "Calm yourself, Margaret."_

"Really, Guy, am I so terrible of a person that you can't bear to see me?" Warren entered Guy's room unannounced.

"Go away, Marlborough. I do not wish to see anyone at the moment, especially not you." Gisbourne swiftly got up and stood. "It is strange, I do not remember us on friendly terms."

"I do not remember you as a lonely, power hungry, pathetic, leather clad, henchman," Warren sighed.

"Truce?"

"Truce…You know something, Gisbourne?" Guy shook his head. "I've already had a run-in with Hood, didn't go too well."

"Really?" His tone was sarcastic. "Hood's encounters with the government of the shire usually go that way."

"I have to say, the man was good tempered until I mentioned a, uh, certain deceased noblewoman."

Guy shot him a look. "Marian? Why did you have to bring her into it?" He stomped over to look the other in the eye. "What do you know about Lady Marian?"

"Whatever Prince John told me about her." Marlborough shook his head. "Temper, temper, Guy. It got the best-"

Warren couldn't finish his sentence as Gisbourne picked him up by the collar and held him against the wall. He had a good idea of Guy's limits but he knew he had already gone past them. "Never, and I mean _never_ mention her again. Do you understand me?"

"I do, point taken," he stuttered. Marlborough took a deep breath as Guy let him go. They finished their argument just in time for the sheriff to interrupt,

"I see you've met my Gizzy. Have you hit it off well? Hmm?" Vaysey momentarily stood on his tiptoes to feel in the same league as the two considerably taller men. The sheriff sauntered back to the doorway. "I will have to break up your meeting now. Warren must be shown his new home."

"Lovely." Warren followed after Vaysey. "May I ask where it is?"

"Bonchurch is just north of Locksley, Gizzy's village." He frowned comically, "Gisbourne was rather pouty today, wasn't he, Marlborough?"

"He was, my lord." Warren peered into an empty room while trying to keep up with the sheriff. The bed was unmade, it looked as if it had been that way for months, the window was open, and a mannequin with a mask lay discarded on the floor. There was a layer of frost on the windowsill, the last time it had been closed seemed to be when it's resident left. The entire concept seemed strange to him. Why was there a deserted room in the middle of Nottingham Castle?


	3. The Past Comes Back to Haunt Us

I am so, so sorry it has taken this long to update. I've been so busy with school and my favorite team making the playoffs. (that now they're out of) grumbles Thanks for reading!

And ya, I had no clue how to end that letter. Excuse that please, oh and sorry for the length of this. I meant to make it longer

**Chapter Three- The Past Comes Back to Haunt You**

"Prince John?" Margaret looked at Alice. "What does he want with me? I never receive letters from the prince."

"Well, he has sent you one, my lady." The older of the two handed a letter to the younger. Margaret wrenched open the fine paper and anxiously read the swirling handwriting.

_My dear girl,_

_I have sent your brother to Nottinghamshire to account for their little outlaw problem. He has advised me that you should not know this and to say he is in London but no one listens to him anyway. You are to go to Nottingham. There are many suitors for you there, far more suitors than there are in Marlborough. I have made the necessary arrangements for your journey. You are to leave as soon as you receive this letter. Sir Warren is currently residing at Bonchurch, a village north of Nottingham Castle. Bonchurch is a pleasant place for you to stay._

_The Honorable Prince John_

Margaret carefully folded it back and frowned. She looked around her bedchamber, looking for something to take out her anger on. _Stupid man. Inconsiderate, foolish, secretive man. _The noblewoman took the pillow off of her bed and whipped it at the stone wall.

Alice bit her lip and grimaced. This was not going to be a good day and whoever was unfortunate enough to accompany Margaret would not have a good trip. "Um…uh…Lady Margaret?" She watched as her employer destroyed two other pillows and ripped drapery from an open window. "Maybe, my lady, you should try to be calm."

"How can I be calm," Margaret shouted, "when my oaf of a brother took me away from my aunt's house to live in this monstrosity that he calls a castle?" Alice ducked as a candlestick was chucked in the general direction of the heavy oak door, near which she was standing. "Then, Warren has the nerve to drag me to the Holy Land to seduce a member of the king's guard. And seemingly I wasn't too good at that because I fell in love with him and we were betrothed." She kicked the bed frame angrily and with an "ouch" sunk back down onto the mattress in pain. "Do you think my life could ever turn out happily, Alice? Hmm?" Margaret answered the question for her, "No. Because _stupid _Warren and his _stupid_ henchman had to murder him in front of me! And now Warren has to make me go to Nottingham. It's not fair."

Alice put a hand on his mistress' shoulder as she started to weep. That man _was_ a monster. "It's alright…And it is Prince John that is sending you to Nottingham not Warren. Go to Bonchurch and forget about everything. I hear Sherwood is beautiful this time of year."

"It's a forest. What makes it any different than Savernake Forest?" Margaret whined. "Oh, I know it has outlaws." She hastily stood up. "Now I have to go to an outlaw-packed, poverty stricken, grief filled wasteland," Margaret gave her servant an obviously fake smile. "Should I dress warmly?"

"It is spring, my lady. You should take a cloak or two. It depends, how long are you going to stay in Nottingham?"

"However long my brother wants me to stay. I might even have to stay there permanently."The noblewoman walked over to the open window and looked out of it. She had always kind of liked the castle. Warren had always been there. For about ten years now, she had been there. It was like home, in a strange, confusing, dejected sort of way. Marlborough wasn't the quaint country manor she had spent the first few years of her life in with her Aunt Murielle and Uncle Godwin. The castle was a place she _had _

to go. There was no gallant crusader to lead her there in a storm of love and passion, no romantic connection at all. All she had was her annoying, power-hungry older brother to drag her there to be used as a political bargaining chip. It wasn't Thomas' home, and as long as he wasn't there with her she wasn't happy. Margaret quickly shook off that thought. Of course he couldn't be there with her, he was dead. "Warren probably just wants to marry me off to an aging nobleman."

"He wouldn't do that," Alice replied even though she knew that he would in a second. "Sir Warren values your happiness. You're his sister, my lady."

"That hasn't stopped him in the past."

Knowing that she needed to change the subject, Alice rose from the bed and laid out a few dresses in front of Margaret. "You might as well start packing. I gather that the prince wants you to depart quickly."

"Can you pack the dresses while I look for a chain for my ring?" Margaret fumbled through a drawer.

Alice nodded in agreement. She started to think about the ring. There was a strong suspicion that Thomas had given it to her. It was much too large for her finger, therefore she had to wear a smaller ring in front of it. Had it been his ring? Alice also knew that they had been engaged, but Sir Warren wouldn't have harmed him if he had known. Margaret never dwelled on the subject. She had never gotten over it, Alice decided. How could she get it over it? With what she had told her about his death, and Warren's role in it, there was no way that she could get over it. The woman paused for a moment. _Like there was no way she could get over John. _

Margaret slashed her train of thought, "Found one!" She stumbled over the hem of her dress on her way to the mirror and took off the ring. Slowly, she threaded the chain through it and put it around her neck. Margaret smiled sadly to herself. "I won't be losing that now...Alice, would you like to come to Nottingham with me?"

She forced a smirk. "No, but thank you." There was no way on God's green earth that she would be able to face John. There was no way Alice wouldn't put herself in that position either. No. Damn. Way.

"No fun Alice. You still have time to change your mind, just in case. I leave tomorrow.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Simon rode silently through Sherwood. He _had_ to find Robin. The forest was quiet, but not the same eerie quiet that could always be credited to an outlaw in the brush. Where the hell were they? He dismounted and tied the horse to a tree. It wasn't his horse, he didn't care. Simon grinned, Guy would though, it was Gisbourne's horse.

"Robin!" He called into the trees. No answer. _Damn. _He whistled. No answer.

Simon stomped through Sherwood, thwarting down branches and hoping that the plant he just stepped in wasn't poison ivy. He chuckled to himself, he would be a horrendous outlaw. Robin's spy stopped and turned in a circle. This wasn't good, he thought. Simon had no idea where he was. "Robin! Much!" He grimaced. "Somebody?"

Never again. Next time, they would meet at Clun or somewhere where he couldn't get lost. The outlaws had taken him to their camp once. But Simon couldn't find it for his life. The castle guard grumbled as he made his way in the direction that he thought the Great North Road was.

Before he knew what was happening, he was up in the air, hanging upside down in an outlaw's trap. In the process, he had let out a less-than-manly cry. Simon hoped no one had heard that. "Robin, it's not funny anymore." _Damn. _Where were the outlaws. "Robin, get me down!" By this time, the blood was rushing to his head. He groaned, "Dear God, let me down please."

The familiar sound of arrow pierced the air nearby. A squirrel fell out of tree. Simon laughed, it had to be. "Much! Let me down!"

A twig cracked and a short man with a hat appeared. "Simon? Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright. I'm hanging upside down from a tree."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Much took a knife from his pocket and cut the rope holding Simon. He fell headfirst to the forest floor. All he could see went black. "Simon? Simon?"

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

Everything was blurry when Simon regained consciousness. The young man sat up and looked around. He was in a bunk in the outlaw camp. "Sorry…" Much popped up over the side. "Wasn't really thinking there…"

"Give him some space, Much." Robin pulled Much back down by the tunic. "Can you remember what it was that you wanted to tell me?"

"Yah, help me down." Robin grabbed Simon by the shoulders. He placed him on the floor. "The sheriff has a guest."

"Really? A rich guest?"

"He is a noble, the caretaker of Marlborough Castle." Simon ran a hand through his black hair. No blood. "His name is Sir Warren of Marlborough."

Much frowned in thought. Could it be _that_ Warren of Marlborough? His eyes darted to Robin. Had Thomas told him the same story? His master didn't look as if he recognized the name. Maybe Thomas had only told him.

"Isn't that Prince John's castle? Marlborough Castle?" Allan joined the conversation.

"Yes, Sir Warren is John's lackey. He has a history with Gisbourne too."

Robin put the mug of ale he had in his hand down and listened more. "Gisbourne?"

"I overheard them. Once Gisbourne heard that it was Sir Warren, he ran to his room. I think he was sick."

"Gizzy doesn't get sick often either." Allan looked up to find the rest of the gang scowling at him. "What?"

"Gisbourne we do not like."

"I know, John."

"Moving on," Robin interrupted, "did you hear any plans?"

"No, but Marlborough is staying at Bonchurch." Simon leant heavily against the wall. Dizziness was starting to turn into lightheadedness.

"You should get some rest, Simon." Robin noticed him closing his eyes. "John."

"Nah, that's okay. I have to get back to the ca-" Little John got up from where he was sitting and lifted

Simon. With a smile, he placed Simon in Will's old bunk.

"You stay here, tonight," John commanded.

"It's the least we can do after Much let you fall on your head." Robin chuckled at Much's expense.

The manservant squirmed, "I said I was sorry."

"And on that note, let's go to sleep." Robin climbed into his bunk. The rest of the gang followed and the fire was soon put out. The only task left for the day was to dream.

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

_Robin tossed and turned in his bed. He just couldn't seem to sleep tonight. His eyes opened but he couldn't make out much in the darkness. By the elbows, he propped himself. Robin sat up. Something wasn't right. Something just wasn't right. _

_Without anything else to concentrate on, Robin took in the silence. He, and the rest of the King's Guard, were camped a far way out of Acre, far enough that none of the city's clamors reached them. Tonight, in _

_his boredom, the silence seemed deafening. Not even Much was sleeping, he couldn't be. There wasn't the regular snoring close to his bed. _

_With the swish of fabric, he rose from the bed and walked out of his tent. He headed towards the back of the camp. On his way, Robin stuck his head into the king's tent. Richard was perfectly fine and snoring loudly. _

_Robin thought he saw a figure on lying sprawled out on the sand. The Lord of Locksley did a double take. There __**was**__a figure sprawled out on the sand. He ran over and knelt beside the man. His heart sank as he recognized the face, "Thomas…"_

_He was unconscious but stirred slightly. Even in the pitch black, Robin could see the dark stain on the tabard. How long had he been lying here? How much blood had he lost? "Much!"_

_Thomas stirred again and winced. After a few seconds, he moaned. "Much! Much, come quickly!" _

"_Is something wrong?" Robin heard a voice behind him. It was a fellow Crusader. _

"_Yes, it's Thomas. He's been injured, get a physician."_

"_Lincolnshire?" He nodded. "Damn. I'll be back."_

"_Master, you'll wake the camp if you keep calling for me like that." Finally. What took so long? "What's so important that you made me get out of bed?"_

"_Come over here and look for yourself." Robin bit his lip. Thomas was their best fighter. They couldn't siege Acre without him._

"_T-Thomas…Is he?...Is he d-dead?" He turned to face his manservant,_

"_No. If I hadn't of found him then…"_

"_What happened?"_

_He turned his head away form Much. "I don't know…But when I find out, whoever did this will pay." In anger, he walked off as the physician arrived._

Robin sat straight up in his bed. The outlaw was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. "Traitor." He lied back down and tried to sleep again. Why the hell did he have that dream?

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

Thanks, taserdbyjack or should I say zelofheda lol. I had fun writing Friar Tuck rofl and Much is adorable cuddles I love writing him! I guess you'll just have to wait and see about Margaret and Warren's Holy Land adventure Mwahaha I have a lot planned for that

I love _your_ fic, biancaneve! Very angsty! The characters that provide the comedy for the show are the best to write. It's fun to think up what they will say lol I'm glad you enjoyed it!


	4. Forging Enemies

Okay, just a teensy note here. As far as Wikipedia tells me (see I kind of do my research) there was a joint sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk. But I'll just chose a random castle because I couldn't find anything…and the character is entirely fictional. Sorry about how much castle stuff goes on. And the length, I got a bit carried away

**Chapter Four- Forging Enemies**-_Two days later_

Guy strolled down the hallway in the castle. The cold air was making him miserable. It had been like this for two days. He was beginning to question if his leaving the Council of Nobles was a smart move. As he went by the courtyard, Gisbourne glanced outside. The hard, grey stones were covered in white and the dusty snow was still filtering down. Nottingham looked slightly peaceful. Maybe. From afar. To someone who was having a first visit. He sighed and walked on. Couldn't he just stay at home in Locksley for the rest of the week? Thinking back to more important matters, the subject of Lord and Lady Clare came to Guy's mind. That man came here only to show off his young bride. Guy smirked at the realization: Lady Amice Clare is the reason why Vaysey wants a wife.

It must have been worse than trying to court Marian. A man of four and thirty going after a woman of Margaret's age. He laughed but then stopped; Henry was only four years older than himself. At least he wasn't the same size as Hood's servant. Clare probably couldn't find a wife because all the women were taller than he was. Guy laughed to himself. He could still remember Marlborough beating the man to a bloody pulp after he stepped too close to Margaret. Lady Amice was a tiny, little thing. She was pretty, feisty, made Henry Clare seem tall in comparison, and needed a stool to stand on to be at Gisbourne's eye level.

"Guy? Is that you?" Gisbourne whirled around on his feet. He recognized the voice immediately. _Damn. _Guy would most likely have an argument with her. She was draped in a black, floor length cloak and hood. Was this her idea of inconspicuous?

"Lady Margaret, it is a pleasure." Guy held out his hand for Margaret to put her hand in it. She accepted but pulled back quickly.

"A pleasure? I have never really considered our meetings pleasurable."

He looked at her in disgust. She couldn't possibly be mad about that still. Not now. "Please, Margaret, that was years ago. Surely you have let it go."

"I am sorry. It wasn't really your fault." She pulled down the hood that covered her face and looked up at him. He just kept on getting taller, didn't he. "May I ask where my brother is?"

"He is in the Great Hall. I really should be there as well." Gisbourne looked down at the girl. She was like his younger sister. "I managed to escape from the Council of Nobles meeting this morning. Warren is still there though."

Margaret smiled, "You just left him. I would've done the same."

"I didn't leave him." Guy started to lead her in the direction of the Great Hall. He stopped short, and Margaret continued right into him. _Bad idea. _The sheriff had been babbling about finding a wife lately. "I will find a guard and he will show you to a room."

"Why? Is there something secret in the Council of Nobles?"

Gisbourne snorted. The thought of taking her to the meeting, just for her to realize how wrong she was, was extremely tempting. "No. It's a few nobles from the area discussing taxes and other things essential to running the shire."

"Oh. Have fun with that." She raised the hood over her head. "It is very cold for March, is it not?"

"It is." Guy spotted a castle guard out of the corner of his eye. He was walking past the corridor going to the courtyard. "Oi! You there!" The man spun on his heels,

"Yes, Sir Guy?"

"Take the lady to a room." The guard started to lead Margaret away, in the direction of Marian's chamber. "Fletcher! Other way."

"Yes, my lord." Simon almost sprinted in the other direction at Gisbourne's order. He was still feeling the side effects of being dropped on the head, and this wasn't helping. Robin's spy put a hand on the stone wall to steady himself. "Would my lady like a chamber with a window?"

"Normally, I would. But I fear it may be too cold." Margaret eyed the guard. He was handsome, _very_ handsome. Tall, slender, dark hair, dark blue eyes. She smiled under the heavy cloak. _Just like Thomas. _It would serve Warren right if she went off with a castle guard.

"Here we are, my lady." He opened the door. "If you need anything, there should be a guard waiting outside for you."

"Thank you, um…"

"Fletcher. Simon Fletcher." The lady received his best smile before retreating into her room. Once he had closed the door behind her, Simon leant heavily against the wall behind him. _Damn it, Much. _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Amice sat on her bed in Nottingham Castle and let her eyes fall on her husband. He always looked handsome in leather. Even when she was angry at him, she always loved him in leather. "Henry?"

"Yes, love?" He pulled a tight, black leather jacket over his head, ignoring the small buttons down the front.

"This might be a stupid question, but why are we here?" She started to laugh. "I see you haven't figured that jacket out yet."Amice moved to a bench in front of the mirror and brushed her blond hair.

"To deal with the first comment, we are here for business matters. Nothing to concern you, an old friend of mine is in the area. And the second comment," Henry chuckled, "it is your fault for purchasing it. I'll get you for that one." He stood by her side and took the brush from her hand. She smiled at him in the mirror as he took up where she left off.

"What will you do, huh? Maybe you can deprive me of the company of Vaysey and Gisbourne."

"I'm not _that_ angry." Henry smiled and kissed her neck. It felt like they had been married years, even though it had only been a month. "I love you." He continued with kisses up her neck and then meeting her lips passionately.

She broke off the kiss, sighed and stopped him. Really, she thought, he was supposed to be responsible. "I love you too, but we must meet the sheriff. The Council of Nobles should be over by now."

"Can't he wait a few hours?" Henry whined. It wasn't fair. She was finally _his_. It had taken years to win her over and he still had to play the part of the responsible, well-to-do, sheriff. "It's not like Vaysey will miss us, Amice."

"Yes, but we have an agreed time." Lady Clare rose from the bench, thwarting off Henry, and ambled towards the door. "Come on."

Dejectedly, he followed and Amice walked out into the drab hall. She walked a few steps and then stopped. Henry thought it as the perfect chance for to avenge her remark about his jacket, "Do you even know where you're going?"

"Do you have a better idea?" she retorted. "Why don't we go to the dungeons and you can stay there? Wouldn't that be exciting, dear?"

"Let's just find Vaysey." Henry strode past her and spotted a guard. The man had his eyes closed, and had most of his weight against the wall, but he still counted. Amice spotted him first,

"Sir, are you well?" She rushed to his side.

Typical. Just typical. He would have to show concern now. This would take even longer and it would be more time before he got Amice back to the chamber. "Why don't you go home for the day? I'll tell Vaysey that I let you go."

"I'm alright. I'm perfectly fine." _Damn._ Simon wrenched his eyes open and forced the throbbing pain to the back of his mind. "Thank you very much for the offer. Though, it is better if I stay here." He noticed the way the couple was looking at him. His choice of words wasn't very guard like, was it? Then again, he was a noble. Actually, he was more than a noble, he should be a sheriff. Too bad his family's title had been taken away when his brother decided to be a traitor. "Can I be of any assistance, my lord?"

"Um…yes, you can direct us in the direction of the sheriff's chamber." Henry exchanged a glance with his wife. Overall, that had been a strange guard.

"Keep going down this hallway, then go left. There are usually four or five guards in front of his chamber."

Following Simon's directions, they made it to Vaysey's room. A guard held the door open for them and the abruptly shut it behind the couple. The sheriff was sitting in his chair, twirling a gold goblet between his fingers. He seemed bored. And when the sheriff was bored, he usually had to make someone suffer. One of the men standing outside the door announced the couple, "Sheriff Henry Clare of Norfolk and Suffolk and Lady Amice Clare."

"Clare?" Warren squinted at the man who was entering. Thank god Margaret wasn't here, it would be like a giant, dysfunctional, family reunion. And he would have had to teach Clare another lesson about how he didn't like scheming men touching his sister. "Is that you?"

"Marlborough? I haven't seen you since…uh. Amice let me introduce you to Sir Warren of Marlborough." Henry took his wife gently by the elbow and her towards Warren. She scowled at Henry, he was definitely hiding something.

"It is a pleasure." Warren kissed her hand.

Not being able to take the stingy amount of attention he was getting, the sheriff complained. "La-di-da-di-da! Reunions are fun aren't they?"

"They are my lord." Marlborough sank back into his standing position on the _left _side of the sheriff's chair. He had already been warned about the right side being reserved for Gisbourne.

Henry shot Vaysey a childish glare. The man knew full well that his friend was jealous and couldn't help but rub it in. "May I ask your purpose for coming to Nottingham?"

"I have come for tips on how to solve an outla-" Amice kicked her husband in the shin. "I have come to discuss matters concerning our king."

A comically evil grin appeared on the sheriff's face. "What kind of matters?"

"Matters concerning a sudden death." Henry started to smirk. "I gather you are aware of Richard's current situation."

The sheriff frowned. What situation? Richard was on his way home…wasn't he? "No. I am afraid I am not."

"All the better then. The Good King Richard is being held as a prisoner of Leopold of Austria."

"Really?" A wave of happiness was threatening to pour down on Vaysey. "Is he dead?"

"He is not." An infectious grin spread across his bearded face. "That is where we come in."

"Oh, I see. Where is he being held?"

"Duerrstein, a castle in Austria. Does Hood know?" Clare looked Vaysey in the eye. There was only one person who could ruin their plans, the young outlaw.

"I expect that Locksley will be taken blindsided by this news," the sheriff chuckled. "Wonderful! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!" Vaysey was now jumping ecstatically. There was no way that they could fail. "When can we have men in Dirtsteen?"

"Duerrstein, Vaysey. First we have to gather support for our little mission. Then, we must willing soldiers for our cause."

"I'm in." Warren sighed loudly. Matter open and shut for him. No convincing needed, he wanted Richard _dead._ Not the most honorable way of acquiring power, but he didn't care in the slightest. Marlborough stretched and continued leaning against the sheriff's chair. How would he explain all this to Margaret?

Vaysey clapped his hands together. "We must discuss this later. For now, I have to find Gisbourne." He ran out of the room as fast as he stubby legs could take him. "Gizzy! Gizzy!"

"And now we will make our leave. Come, Amice." The Clares left the chamber leaving Warren alone. The couple made their way back to their room, almost becoming lost a number of times.

"Amice, love, remember how much trouble I had putting my jacket on?"

"Yes." She eyed him with a not-so-noble gleam in her eye.

"Would you mind taking it off for me?"

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

"_Thomas, Thomas, wake up. Please?" Much nudged his friend lightly. "Pretty please?"_

"_It's no use, Much." The physician took a deep breath. "He's lost a large amount of blood. He won't regain consciousness for a while." John Whitten stood, sulked, and went outside. Even though he was Thomas' physician, he was his friend as well. Much knew it was hard for him to watch his comrade bleed and suffer and know that his fate resting in his hands. _

_Robin's manservant pouted and folded his arms over his chest. Where was Master during any of this? Thomas was his friend, too. Sighing, he glanced around the tent. The light seared through the pale yellow cloth, flooding the tent with a dull yellow light. Thomas' weapons and possessions were neatly arranged around his tent. Much's shield and sword were thrown next to where he sat. And Master was nowhere in sight. He doubted that Master was even in camp._

_Much moved his shoulder so that the rough chainmail wasn't scratching it. Stupid armor. Stupid war. Stupid assassins. Sod the king. All he wanted was to go back home and have life be normal again. On any day in which he was here, he would rather be at home in Locksley. Following his master around Nottingham, exploring the forest, wooing fair maids, generally causing trouble. He had only gone on this bloody Crusade because he loved his master. He loved Robin so much that he would follow him __**anywhere. **__Even if Master became an outlaw and had to live in the dirty, dark forest (like that would ever happen) Much would follow him there. _

_A quiet moan came from the bed beside him. Much turned so that he could see Thomas. Should he go get Whitten? The man grimaced and grunted. Robin's manservant hadn't a clue what to do next. He had never been faced with this situation before. "Uh…you'll be alright, Thomas. It's not that bad." Much bit his lip. By the way the physician had acted, it probably was bad, and Thomas would die._

_Obviously pained, and most likely not remembering what happened, Thomas tried to speak. His voice was hoarse and the effort only worsened his already uneven breathing. "Is the king," he gasped, "is the king alright?"_

"_Majesty is well. Perfectly well and unharmed." Much was worried. There was something he didn't know here. Thomas' dark blue eyes were clouded from the agony he was facing. His breaths were short and whenever he moved they would turn into gasps. He watched Thomas' face contort with pain and went to fetch the physician. Not good. Not good at all. "John!" _

"_Here!" A blonde head popped up from his right. "What happened? Is he alright?"_

"_He's conscious, but his breathing is-is off and he's in a lot of pain." Much followed Whitten back inside the tent. Where was Master? __**Where was his master?**_

"_Lincolnshire, you alright, buddy?" John knelt beside the injured Crusader. Much only watched. If there was going to be blood, he would have to leave. He couldn't take blood, he just couldn't. "Alright, it's alright, calm down." The physician stayed there until Thomas' breathing resembled that of someone not on the brink of death and his grunting, groaning, and spluttering had stopped. _

_Much resumed his post next to his friend. What could he do to make him feel better? Take his mind off the pain? He bit his lip and knew what he could do. Much would talk. He would talk until Thomas became succumbed to boredom and was lulled into sleep. "So, you really didn't miss much. Master Robin and I were pretty worried about you and we stayed in our tent. Our dinner was sent there. It was good, well good for the Holy Land. I mean it's not like what mother used to make…"_

Much opened his eyes and frowned. His poor friend. His poor, poor, suffering friend. God rest his soul. The smell of breakfast filled his nostrils. They were having breakfast, and they were having it _without_ him. Ignorant pigs. He stumbled outside to where they were seated around the fire. "Master! Master how could you?"

Robin chuckled. "It's only breakfast." He shoveled some egg into his mouth and cringed. Burnt egg.

"I have to say, mate, it would have been much better if you had cooked it." Allan sighed and poked one of the eggs on his plate. Not a good start to the day.

"See what happens when I'm not here." Anger, disappointment, pride and happiness flashed in his eyes all at once. "You lot can even make food for yourself." Much scanned the forest. It was snowing and the ground was already covered in it. "Are you insane? Sitting in the cold when you could be inside.  
"At least we don't complain about it…" John grumbled and rose from the ground. "Deliveries. Robin, Allan, come with me. Much stay and eat." Without looking back, he marched through the trees. After a few steps, John realized the weather didn't agree with his decision. Brow set tight together, the monstrous man started to tread back to his fellow outlaws.

Snow was falling in pure, white clusters not bothered by man or beast. The forest appeared to have no inhabitants, not even the four outlaws. Deep in Sherwood, where John was clomping through seas of snow, and the rest of the gang was too lazy to move, everything was quiet. Much had gone back to sleep, Allan quickly following to leave a shivering Robin and an irritable, somewhat yeti looking John.

"Robin, inside, now!" The outlaw leader glanced at his ally. Almost immediately, he knew that Little John wasn't in a mood to be reckoned with. Scurrying inside, Robin bit his lip. The first time he had proposed to Marian, it had been a quiet, snowy day like this one.

Robin obeyed John and joined the rest of the gang. "Later, we have to go to Bonchurch. It's new visitor won't be expecting us."

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

"It sure took you long enough to find me." Margaret sighed. She was cold, irritable, and if Warren wanted a fight she would kick his hindquarters back to Marlborough. The castle was damp and unpleasant. The company was terrible and boring. There was nothing she liked about this place. Nothing at all.

"What is wrong with you?" Yes, he wanted a fight. "I never even told you I was here. Nottingham is not safe, Margaret! There are outlaws here. Bloodthirsty, conniving outlaws, who hate my guts."

"You probably deserve it! Whose betrothed did you murder now?" Her temper was rising at

quick, steady pace. Warren better watch himself, she thought. There was nothing to hold her back from unleashing her full fury on him.

"Why do you have to bring that into everything? It was a year ago! You _knew_ that I would have to kill him. I told you to _seduce_ him not fall in love with him like a typical serving wench!" He slammed his palm into the wall. _Damn that man._ Even after his death, Lincolnshire is causing more harm than good.

"You never told me that! All you give me are orders. Orders to follow whether I like it or not! Who gave you the right, anyway? Warren, you aren't even my guardian! I could go right back to Uncle Godwin and Aunt Muriel if I wan-"

Warren cut her off, "You will do what I say, woman! There will be no questions or complaints from you, understand?"

The usually quiet, well-mannered, and good-tempered girl could not be classified as any of those at the moment. If there was anyone she could stand up to, it was Warren. "No I don't! How dare you treat me like this. For your information, Prince John sent me here. If I had my choice, I would be as far away from you as possible! Now, _leave me alone _Warren!"

"As much as I would like to, I have to take you to Bonchurch for safe keeping. When the time comes, I must marry you off to a nobleman. Until that time, I have to keep you where I can see you."

"Like I'll agree to that. Like Uncle Godwin will agree to that." She was very close to striking her brother. Another remark like that and there would be a red mark across his ugly face. "I'd rather stay with Guy than stay with you."

He gave her a sarcastic smile. "That can be arranged."

"Yeah right." Margaret hiked over to where Warren stood. She stood on the tips of her toes to be at eye level. "I know you. There is no way you would _ever_ allow that." She returned the fake grin. Margaret knew his weakness, and it was her.

"Just come on! We can fight about this later!" He grabbed her roughly by the waist, not roughly enough to hurt her, and pulled her through the door. "You are right, Margaret. I would _never_ allow that, so don't even think about it."

Simon felt sick from where he was standing. It was the same Sir Warren of Marlborough. It was the same Lady Margaret of Marlborough. He had heard the whole thing. At least the girl he got himself killed over was pretty. He watched Warren half-lead-half-drag Margaret in the direction of the stable. Simon thinned his lips in anger. He would make Marlborough pay. Sir Warren wouldn't last too long in Nottingham; he wouldn't be breathing by next week. And the lady Marlborough, well she would stay safe with Simon.

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

"I do _not_ like this." Margaret wriggled as her brother carried her to the doorway. "You don't need to carry me like a child. It's only snow, Warren, for goodness sakes."

"We both know that you will wreck your boots, and you will complain forever about it." Marlborough trudged through the snow, a handful of guards in tow. "You're a weakling, anyway."  
"I am not! Put me down." She wriggled all the more and took her hands from around his neck. He almost dropped her.

"Are you daft?" Warren scowled down at her. "I could've dropped you."

"But you didn't." She looked out at Bonchurch. Through the snow, she could make out several tiny homes and the manor. It seemed pleasant, peaceful, and most important of all: warm. "Hurry up, will you, I'm cold. I could've made it there and back by now."

He scowled again and was visibly irritated. "Quiet or I'll drop you."

"You wouldn't." She smiled and kneed him in the stomach.

"Do that again and I will." Finally, they were nearing the manor.

Margaret decided to test her luck by kneeing her brother harder. Doubling over, Warren let her fall into the ankle-deep snow. Knowing she would be angry he ran for cover towards Bonchurch. "You oaf!" She formed a snowball and chucked it at his head.

Similar to one of Robin's arrows, the snowball whizzed by his head without doing much damage. Warren grimaced there would surely be more to come. He continued sprinting towards the manor and then turned once he reached it. That was odd. No snowballs had hit him.

The guards were still there, fumbling in their heavy armor. The carriage and the horses were still there. But Margaret was nowhere to be seen. Warren bit down hard on his lip. _If those outlaws even think of touching her._ "Margaret!" He went towards the forest edge. "Margaret!"

Marlborough threw his head back in anger. She was probably just playing with him, about to jump out of the brush any second. "It isn't funny anymore, Margaret," he called. "You can come out now!" No answer.

Warren turned to the guards. "What are you waiting for? Go look for her!" The four men staggered in the snow into the forest. After searching for nearly an hour, Marlborough called it off and went inside. _Robin Hood would pay dearly for touching his sister._

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

TaserdbyJack: Thank you for the wonderful review! :) I might have you fooled with Thomas, but then again I may not! lol with Simon and the chance for Much to shoot a squirrel out of a tree was irresistible! 3


	5. Weaknesses

*does CPR on story* BE ALIVE! LIVE! I have found new inspiration to continue this story! Sorry to anyone who was reading it before (If you're still there) Enjoy!

**Chapter Five- Weaknesses **

The sun was rising and along with it, so was anger from the prior day. Warren glowered out of the open window. He would find them and then kill them. No outlaw messed with him and got away with it. _No _outlaw messed with his sister and made it out alive. "I heard what happened and came immediately." Heavy footsteps announced Sir Guy's entrance.

"It's no use, Gisbourne. There's nothing I can do _yet. _I'll just have to wait." Marlborough came away from the window and sat down in a large wooden chair. He motioned for Guy to sit next to him. "Just a quick question…Does Robin Hood usually kill his hostages?"

"No. He wins them over, uses them as spies in the castle." Gisbourne took a deep breath. He couldn't think about her. Not here. Not now. Not _ever. _

Warren smiled and gazed around the room. The walls were plain and wooden with emerald colored curtains draping the window. A fire was burning noisily in the fireplace adjacent to the large oak table they were seated at. "It would take a great amount of effort to win Margaret over."

"They'll probably beg you to take her back." He chuckled. "Robin Hood felled by a nineteen year old."

"Be serious, Guy." Warren leant back uneasily in his chair. "Are you completely sure that Locksley does _not_ kill his hostages?"

"I am." There it was, Guy thought. A weakness. Something that could bring his friend down. The trademark smirk appeared on his face. _He, himself, possessed no weakness at all. _"Hood will probably want to send word to the castle, not here."

"I don't care." Marlborough rose and gaited towards the window. There was nothing he could do but wait. The man was worried. _Robin Hood had Margaret. _She was the type of person who could was very kind and quiet to a stranger. Warren bit down hard on his lip. _Please, please, please, give him hell._ "If Locksley kidnapped an unarmed, defenseless woman, he will come to see me. I am her guardian in Nottingham, not Vaysey."  
Gisbourne knew that Marlborough meant business. Margaret meant very much to him, and whoever would hurt her was in deep, painful, and likely fatal trouble. And that was exactly the situation Hood had unknowingly gotten himself into. _Yes._ "We will get her back, Warren."

He now had a score to settle. "I want him dead. I want Robin Hood _dead._"

With every word out of Warren's mouth, Guy became slightly happier. They were going to be like a team now. Two tall, strong, fighting men against one, small and emaciated-looking outlaw. If Marlborough didn't calm down soon, the man would march out into Sherwood himself to take down Hood. "Everyone wants him dead."

As he twisted around to glare at Gisbourne, a glint of anger showed in his eyes. "Yes, but I will be the one that ends him." Warren walked over to Guy brandishing a sarcastic smile. "I will succeed. Anything you can do, I can do better. And anything you can't do I can."

The response was a punch to the face. "Couldn't do that." He stormed off just as Warren got to his knees. Marlborough stood up shakily and cursed. Sod Gisbourne. He didn't need Guy anyway.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

_Much's mind was buzzing. Less than an hour ago he had been comforting Thomas and now he was in the middle of a siege. Master was injured and he was currently sprinting from tent to tent screaming at the top of his lungs. "Get up! Get up! The camp is under attack! Saracen raid!" The manservant was horrified by the responses he had gotten. Food thrown at him, curses he hadn't heard before, an arrow shot at his head (though he wasn't sure if that had been a Crusader or a Saracen), and even an "I don't care." Jesus, these men were grumpy in the morning. They were used to getting up at dawn, and it was only an hour before. _

_As he ran by Thomas' tent, Much poked his head inside. He knew his friend well, and it wouldn't be a surprise to find him out of bed, fighting. "Don't do anything you'll regret, okay?" _

"_You wouldn't." Thomas' quiet voice and unsteady breathing could be heard from inside the tent. Huh? What was he talking about?_

"_Oh I would. I'm going to finish off what Marlborough started." Something wasn't right here. Much stepped silently inside the tent. "This is where it ends for you, Lincolnshire. Sorry, but you know too much." A man was standing over Thomas, his sword pressed against the crusader's neck. _

"_Hey you!" Much lunged at the not-so-Saracen looking assassin who instantly took off running. "What the hell was that?" Rather than go after the man, Much sat down on the ground and caught his breath. _

"_It's a long story." Thomas rubbed his neck. _

_Contemplating his ally's strength, Much asked, "Can you tell me?" _

"_Are you forgetting that we're in the middle of a raid?" He propped himself up on his elbows and winced. "Throw me my sword."_

"_Are you forgetting your wound? You can't even stand, let alone fight." The manservant climbed to his feet. "Stay there!" Much ran out of Thomas' tent and towards the king's tent. Surely Master would be there. "Master! Master!" Fighting off a wave of fabric, he entered the tent. Robin was inside leaning against a support. "Master?"_

"_I'm alright. Don't worry about me." Robin took his weight off of the support and attempted to stand by his own power. His knees buckled beneath him, and luckily Much was there to catch his master. _

"_You are definitely __**not**__ alright." The manservant waited for Robin to place his arm over his shoulder. Once he did, they walked to the sick tent. "Where were you?"_

"_What?" Robin was taking short, gasping breaths. _

"_Never mind." The two reached the tent and Much gave Robin to Thomas. _

_The physician took Robin and helped him lie down. "The Saracens?" _

"_Yes." The manservant squirmed and whispered to John, "Is it bad?"_

_Whitten scowled at frowned. "I don't know yet."_

"_I might go then." Much scurried off to Thomas' tent. Blood was bad. It was a sign of death. People weren't supposed to see it. Death was bad too. Thomas could help with these things. They had known each other for years. "Thomas, can you tell me the story now?"_

"_Yes, but answer one question first." His face was whiter pale and he was sweating. Wasn't that bad? Wasn't that a fever?_

"_Fine."_

"_Why are your hands covered in blood?" _

_He frowned and looked down at his hands. Sod it. "Robin was stabbed by a Saracen."_

"_Will he live?" Concern flashed in the young man's eyes. Much didn't know if it was good for him to be so concerned. _

"_Um I-I don't know," his face flushed red, "I left when I heard there would be blood."_

"_Oh…well do you want to hear my story?" Thomas started to shiver. "This might sound odd but are you cold too?"_

_Much gulped. He had a fever. He undoubtedly had a fever. "Just a little. Maybe…Uh. Let's get on with that story!" Thomas seemed as if he was becoming tired. Much's face fell. __**Don't take a fever on me, Thomas.**_

"_It started in Portsmouth. I fell in love with a girl. A beautiful, kind, wonderful girl." He laughed a dry laugh that soon turned into a grimace. "I should have known when she immediately told me of a brother in trade in the Holy Land."_

"_You couldn't have known."_

"_No. I should have known. In my belief of her innocence, I told her brother the king's plans. Jesus, I was only trying to make conversation with the man. I never would have guessed that her brother was trying to kill the king. I never would have guessed that he would use me to get to Richard." Thomas met Much's eye. He grimaced and Much wasn't sure if it was in pain or of a broken heart. "When Marlborough used her against me, it was the first time I had seen her since Portsmouth. Sir Warren of Marlborough is her brother. Her name is Lady Margaret of Marlborough. When the king finds out-"_

"_Richard won't find out. Who will tell him?" _

"_Listen to me, Much. When the king learns of my stupidity, he will call 'betrayal' and execute me. If I even recover from this wound." Thomas paused. "I need you to make sure that no harm comes to her. Do you hear me? I need you to keep her safe when everything is out of the bag." The words echoed in Much's ears. He couldn't even watch over Master. "Promise me, Much."_

_He had known this man all his life. Thomas Fitzwalter of Lincolnshire, the cousin of Lady Marian. "I promise. Was he the one that tried to kill you?"_

"_The first time. The second was his lackey. He is a friend of Prince John…What a fool I was. I led them all to the king. I know that if I tell the king, she will be in danger." He closed his eyes for a moment. "And now Robin is injured. How many other men are dead because of me?"_

"_Not many." Much shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Ah, just three or four."_

"_How are they dead because of you, Thomas?" Both Much's and Thomas' head shot toward the direction of King Richard's voice. _

Much grumpily opened his eyes. How would he look after Lady Margaret when she worked with the sheriff? "Now…I would like for you to tell me about your brother."

"I would prefer not to, Locksley." God, did Master have to start arguing with the lady this early? He closed his eyes and rolled over. "It is not a lady's place to converse with an outlaw."

"You don't have much of a choice, my lady."

"Of course I do, Hood. A man with your honor and values wouldn't harm a woman." With a sigh, Much focused on sleeping again. She was right, there was nothing to protect her from at the moment.

Rustling from the sheets above told him that Allan had woken. "Oi! Why are you fighting when you can be sleeping? And I'm not bein' funny, Lady Madge, but he might harm you if you caught in 'im in the right mood."

The manservant groaned. "Master, I must stress the fact of how a noblewoman should be treated. Think of your reputation." Grumbling further, Much clambered out of his bunk nearly stepping on John beneath him and falling over on Margaret to his right. "Sorry."

"For all your chivalrous words, Much, it wouldn't be a good example to step on the girl." A cheeky grin awaited him as he reached the ground.

Allan stuffed his head in the pillow. "That's not a sight for the morning, Robin. Or for anytime of the day really." Much laughed as Robin shot an angry glance in Allan's direction. "What?"

"Nothing." The outlaw leader exaggeratedly climbed into his bunk. His booted foot missing Margaret's face by only a few inches.

"How dare you! Ignorant man…" Margaret straightened and scowled. The outlaws' camp wasn't exactly Marlborough Castle. It was warm and cozy but it lacked any decoration. Obviously, it was crafted by a man. "How long are you planning to keep me here?"

Robin leaned over the side and craned his neck to see his captive. "Why are you so concerned?"

"Oh. I don't know. Aren't your hostages usually concerned?" The lady looked Robin straight in the eye. He would not scare her. That conclusion went hand-in-hand with her 'if it can't see me, it can't hurt me' philosophy.

Much pouted. There would be no more sleeping this morning. "Our hostages aren't usually women, my lady. Men try not to show fear."

"Look, if you lot are just going to talk, we should go to Nottingham." A freshly risen Little John joined the conversation.

"Nottingham? We did handouts in Nottingham two days ago. Bonchurch is next, isn't it?" Having lost some of his leadership after returning from the Holy Land, handouts were now a responsibility of the golden-hearted giant. Robin loathed going to Nottingham. Everywhere came with a memory of her. Nottingham contained every time she refused to join his gang, and it had lead to her death.

Allan stood and attempted to brush the wrinkles out of his clothing. "Is it really a smart idea to bring her to Bonchurch. Doesn't her brother lord the place?" He frowned and pulled a cloak over the tangle of fabric.

"Yes. But we will go anyway." Robin climbed down from his bunk once more and lifted Margaret from hers. All the better for him to taunt Marlborough, the newest addition to the Nottingham nobles, which he hated. "Come, my lady." For a second, his eyes locked with hers. He hadn't realized how beautiful she was when he had first seen her. And he hadn't noticed the ring on her necklace. Where had he seen it before?

"You can put me down now." Margaret's face was stone and her eyes emotionless. Bloody outlaw. If she wasn't a noblewoman, she would have taught him a few choice words by now. Gently, Robin took his arm away and let her stand.

Allan was growing impatient standing around. "Can we go then?"

"Yes of course we can, Allan."

"What are we gonna do with her?" The rogue nodded towards Margaret.

Robin sighed. "Throw me that rope."

"Can't I just stay here?" Margaret glanced up at Robin. For his sake, it would be better to stay far away from Warren.

"Nope, sorry. Give me your hand." He started to tie her wrists together. "We can't have you running away."

"I assure you, I've already had my activity for the year." Margaret laughed to herself. It had always been the Marlborough siblings' joke. She frowned, for once she missed her brother.

The outlaw leader gazed at her with blue eyes. Maybe she wasn't his type after all. _Stop it._ He scolded himself, _he belonged with Marian. _No woman could take her place. _No woman._ "Really? What was that, my lady?"

Margaret flushed, "I played tag with my servant's son." Noticing the outlaws' chuckles she added, "What? John can run very fast…not useful when he becomes a friar but….Hey, it is Alice's only child, though she thinks she's my mother, and she is a very kind woman." Good, she thought, ramble like an absentminded child.

John's head snapped up. "Alice? Alice Little and her son John Little?"

"Yes. And her husband Luke the Cooper."

The gang exchanged glances. John's Alice was the maidservant of their captive. "Small world." Allan gave a half-smile.

"Write to her, tell her to come here." Robin lead the way but of the camp and into Sherwood. The five walked to the horses and Robin helped Margaret to mount a chestnut mare and to her surprise jumped on behind her. "Say it, John."

"We go to Bonchurch."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"Lord William of Durnam?"

"No."

"Sir Gordon of Hetherford?"

"No."

"Alright. Sir Edward of Longborough?"

"Leper. Definitely not."

"Foster of Rotherham?"

"Oh yes. Delightfully cruel and deceitful man. Perfect for our trip!"

"Good. That's our first man." Lord Henry Clare scribbled down the name. "Rather than go through these thirty names, do you want to tell me who you want to accompany us?" He placed both hands on the list, wanting badly to rip it in two. _Daft, old fool. _

The sheriff stroked his bearded chin in thought. "Hmm. Maybe Sir Simon Fitzwalter of Lincolnshire? He must be an enemy of Richard. Wasn't his brother declared a traitor?"

"Sir Simon went into hiding, Vaysey." Henry rested his head in his hands. This man was utterly incompetent. Doesn't Vaysey know about his relation to the Lady Marian? At this pace, he would have to stay here until sunset.

"We must find him then." Fool. It was only common sense to have Lincolnshire on their side.

Clare looked through his hands at the sheriff. "Where do you expect to find him?" Hood, Marlborough, anything, just get him out of here.

"My lord!" The door squeaked open. The drowsy guard from the prior day entered the room. "I have a message from Sir Warren."

"Exciting!" Vaysey rose from his chair and studied the guard, "You're new." He clapped his hands together and raised his eyebrows. "What is your name, boy?"

Boy? He was twenty. "Fletcher, my lord."

"Very good. Now what is the message?" Henry watched the young man cringe under the sheriff's eyes. Poor sod. In the light he could see the man better. The guard seemed familiar, strange as it was. "Vaysey, if we are to find Sir Simon it will take too long to fit into our trip."

The sheriff frowned. Maybe Clare was right. "Well," he studied Simon and wondered what Warren could want, hest, "how long could it take?"

Simon gulped. What could they want with him? What if they found him?

Henry kept his eyes trained on Simon. Very familiar. "Well anyway, if we find him, it will be hard to win him over if the man finds out I tried to kill his brother…And got very close."

Simon's face fell and he listened very closely. "You don't go around telling people." Vaysey rolled his eyes and put a hand over his face. "Do you?"

"No. But it is a good story. Makes me sound heroic." Henry grinned. It was an interesting tale to tell. And with the surge of gossip he asked, "Do you want to hear how he really died? Thomas of Lincolnshire?" Seeing no enthusiasm in the sheriff he continued, "The best fighter in the king's guard turned rogue and traitorous, aye?"

"If it will get you to shut up. And I want the short version." Sighing, Vaysey contented. For a fellow sheriff, Clare was like a gossiping kitchen maid…and gossiping kitchen maids were lepers.

"The last time I saw him, he was alive. If my sources are correct, the king tortured him and left him in the desert. I have been told Richard whipped him as he was getting a fever and the king dragged him to the desert at the height of it. Seeing how bad that wound was he couldn't have lasted that long." Noticing a spark of emotion in the young guard's eyes, Henry knew why he looked familiar. He would deal with him later.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"Uncle! Uncle!" Djaq ran from the group of men standing outside to her uncle inside his Acre home. "You are needed outside."

"Why?" The older, portly man rose from his seat and hurried out into the hot, dry air. He froze for a second at the sight of the large group that was converging on him but still went forward, detecting something was amiss among them.

"Tadim, we need your help. Your people need your help." A man, clad in the customary outfit of a Saracen soldier, stepped forward. He bowed his head to the physician.

"What has happened?" The old man chuckled. "I am a physician, not a miracle worker."

The smile of the young soldier faltered. "Izra'il has fallen."

Tadim blinked. _Izra'il. _He had heard of the Saracen fighter only in legends and tales from haughty warriors. Djaq's uncle had no idea the man really existed.

"_The_ Izra'il. Not the angel, but the soldier?" Djaq was just as stunned as her relative.

"Yes, milady."

"Is he still breathing? Bring him here."

"Oh, he's breathing. He's fighting too." With a flick of his wrist, two men came forward, half-supporting, half-dragging another. Djaq and Tadim stared at the figure. Even in the heat of the Saracen lands, the man was covered in black leather, no patch of skin showing. His face was concealed by a mask, and painfully Djaq realized, his costume resembled the Nightwatchman. Izra'il struggled against the two men, trying to shrug his arms off of their shoulders even though he was obviously too weak to stand by himself. He dug his heels into the sand beneath his feet in an effort to not be transferred to the physician.

"Easy there." Tadim took a step forward. "We have to take all of this leather off him." He reached for the top half of the mask.

Swiftly, Izra'il broke his arm free of his supporters and slapped Tadim's hand away before his knees buckled. The warrior fell to the ground but quickly pushed himself up with great effort.

The soldier who had addressed Tadim put an arm around the injured man's waist to steady him. "We can't figure out what his problem is. He's been fighting us since we told him that we were taking him to a physician."

"That is odd." Djaq took a long look at the only visible part of Izra'il she could find, his eyes. She nearly did a double take. _His eyes were blue._ In a Saracen, blue eyes were rare to nonexistent but she held her tongue.

"We found him after a skirmish with some Templars. He was wounded and acted the same way; he fought with us when we tried to help."

Tadim took a long look at his new charge before walking back towards his home. "Bring him inside."

Djaq, the two dragging Izra'il, and the lead soldier followed the stout physician. The entered the large house and went down a hallway until Tadim motioned towards a room. "You can place him in there. Saphia, fetch me my medicines."

"Yes, uncle." Djaq strode further down the hall and out of sight.

"Stop it. Lie down." Tadim smiled slightly as Izra'il nearly kicked one of the three men now restraining him in the head. "Would you rather die?"

"I would!" The soldier who had been in his face backed off. It was the first time he had heard the injured fighter speak. His voice was deep and hoarse but his Arabic was flawless. The warrior struggled even more and sat up swiftly. He batted away the helping hands and stood shakily. After a few seconds, Izra'il collapsed unmoving on the floor in a heap.

With a sigh, the other soldiers lifted him from the ground and placed him on the bed. Both were happy and scared that he had passed out. No longer was he struggling, but he was in a worse condition.

"I'll take it from here. You and your men may leave; I will send word of his progress."

As the four men exited, Djaq entered, her arms full of small bottles and cloth sacks filled with potions and herbs. Will walked behind her, curious about the Saracen fighter. She glanced at Izra'il worriedly, the only sign of him being alive was the shallow rising and falling of his chest and the movement of the mask over his mouth as he breathed.

"Step one: remove this mask. It is surely suffocating him." Tadim pulled the mask off the face of Izra'il. Djaq gasped. Will's mouth fell open. The physician raised an eyebrow. "An Englishman?"


End file.
